


three steps to love

by greyedscale



Series: the hurdles we run [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe – Different Sport, Hinata Shouyou Has ADHD, Hinata shouyou has depression, Hurdler!Hinata Shouyou, Hurdler!Kageyama Tobio, Hurdler!Shimizu Kiyoko, Hurdling, Implied Tsukishima Kei/Yamaguchi Tadashi, M/M, Mentor!Shimizu Kiyoko Tsukishima Kei Being an Asshole, Pole Vaulter!Tsukishima Kei, Pole Vaulter!Yamaguchi Tadashi, Sawamura Daichi is So Done, Track & Field, Track & Field AU, no beta we die like kiyoko’s canon hurdling career
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:48:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28154874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greyedscale/pseuds/greyedscale
Summary: Shouyou has been adrift, trying any sport that would want him. It all changes once he’s introduced to hurdles … and a certain blue-eyed prodigy in the sport.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio
Series: the hurdles we run [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2062602
Comments: 6
Kudos: 25
Collections: Kagehina Big Bang 2020





	three steps to love

**Author's Note:**

> i'm so excited to finally reveal to everyone the fic i wrote for my first big bang ever! robin did the incredible art for this fic, and you should all go check them out on [twitter](https://twitter.com/hana_shi_?s=09) and [tumblr](https://hana-shi-art.tumblr.com/)!!! <3  
> post w/ robin's art: [twitter](https://twitter.com/hana_shi_/status/1340004312420913157?s=19)  
> playlist of songs i listened to while i was writing this: [spotify](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5C2cjC7nCaGPSIZxs90Hek?si=DHsxSjKPRmeOEuuZdUM1fw)

“Hinata-kun,” his coach got his attention at the end of practice.

“Yeah,” the star jumper responded, tilting his head questioningly, “Whatcha need, Coach?”

“I’m sorry to ask this of you, but could you try running hurdles in this upcoming meet?”

“What? But Coach!! I’m a jumper! I don’t do running events!”

“Please, Hinata,” the coach practically begs, “We just need one more runner. You don’t have to run the event ever again if you don’t like it, but we need one more if we want to qualify for Conference.” There’s a certain undertone to his coach’s statement, one that signals to Shouyou that his question is more a command than a request.

Shouyou sighs. He knew the moment Coach asked him he was going to agree. It’s what made Shouyou join triple jumps, and it’s going to be what makes him join hurdles. It’s just the way it is. “I’ll do it, Coach.”

The coach grabs Shouyou’s right hand in both of his, shaking his hand, exuberance just a tad too intense to be real. “Thank you so much, Hinata-kun! I’ll show you the proper form during practice tomorrow.”

* * *

Shouyou just wanted to find a sport that could make his blood rush in a way that made him forget all else. He just wanted to find a sport where he could excel _despite_ his height, and he had thought he had found that with jumps. …Yet, here he was, distracting himself with yet another new event. It could have been that he _knew_ on some level that he was hitting his limits as a jumper—above average for a middle schooler, but nothing too impressive on a prefecture level. Or maybe he was running away from the sport he knew, subconsciously using the excuse of _being new to the sport_ to justify his lacking ability.

It wasn’t that his coach’s word was law; he could always quit track. ~~Except Shouyou knew he couldn’t do that; he had already quit soccer and tennis and gymnastics. Track was pretty much his last chance to be something … because god knows his academics weren’t going to magically become worthy of praise. Athletics … was the only thing he had going for him.~~

Either way, there was something desperate and resigned in Shouyou’s decision to hurdle in the upcoming meet.

… He’s not entirely sure how to feel about that.

* * *

Hurdling, it turns out, is both easier and harder than Shouyou expects. He goes through the motions that the coach tells him about, finding that his height is actually somewhat of an advantage here—or rather, puts him on the same level as those of average height. You see, the thing about hurdles is, the closer you are to the height of the hurdles, the faster you are—whether that’s being shorter than them or taller, it’s all the same. Shouyou doesn’t know if he likes the sport so much as knows it’s something that he’s finally _not_ at a natural disadvantage at. But whether he likes it or not, that’s all he needs. A single chance. One chance to even the playing field.

Shouyou deliberately decides to ‘like’ the sport.

* * *

Shouyou’s first hurdle race is unremarkable. He finishes it in between his long, triple, and high jump turns and goes home with a bruise he normally wouldn’t have on his knee. He’s not sure if he wants to try again.

However, his coach taps him on his shoulder and tells him to run one more meet, and Shouyou, shrugs and ends up agreeing. There’s no reason not to, after all.

The second time he races hurdles, Shouyou is more used to the form, the sprinting, the combination of the two. Something clicks in him, and he goes home with something close to a smile for the first time in a while. It’s not a real smile—he hasn’t actually been happy enough to smile for real in years—but, it feels like the precursor, the kind of faked smile that’s just one breakthrough away from becoming real. Shouyou’s not really sure if he’s faking his love of hurdles anymore—or if he even had to in the first place. He’s not sure of much … but what he does know is that he’s chasing that feeling, the spark of something, that hurdles has inspired in him.

The third time he races hurdles, the coach didn’t have to ~~order~~ ask him at all. He had gone straight to the coach after practice and asked to run hurdles for Conference.

“Coach, I know I’m already jumping, and it would be selfish to ask to run a fourth event at conference, especially since I’ve only just started hurdling, but … please.” He shoots into a ninety-degree bow, eyes closed, hands glued to his side. His coach ruffles his hair that’s getting a bit too long.

“Hinata-kun,” his coach smiles too widely, “I’m so glad you asked.”

It’s the third time Shouyou runs hurdles at a meet that his life changes completely.

* * *

It’s about an hour before the hurdle races are about to start in the Miyagi Prefecture Conference, and Shouyou is nervous. It’s the biggest race he’s been to. There are even people in the stands that aren’t just other runners from different schools! It’s scary, thinking of all those eyes on him while he runs and runs, pushing his body to the point of collapse. He’s scared, and he’s excited. He can’t stop moving. He hasn’t felt this many emotions in so long. It’s … refreshing. Shouyou makes up his mind to hold onto this levity, to claw himself out of the deep abyss he’d been trapped in.

The determined boy’s just started his warm-ups, yet he’s sweating already, unruly hair matting against his forehead. His uniform sweats are sticking to him uncomfortably, but he can’t take them off. Not when he hasn’t even done the hurdle stretches yet; he can’t let his body cool in the breeze of the track when he’s already warmed it up from jumps.

Shouyou closes his eyes and tries to forget the imagined pressure of the stares from the bleachers. No one’s even looking at him. Probably.

He lets a breath out through his mouth. Then heads towards the grassy field inside the track, dragging a singular hurdle with him. Time to do his hurdle warm-ups. Shouyou raises the hurdle four clicks and the rests his weight on the hurdle. He swings his left leg side to side— _one two three_ —increasing the height of his swing as he as he goes. _Eight nine ten_. Switch _two three four_. He feels the satisfying burn of his muscles stretching and acclimating to being used. Switch. He’s facing the bleachers now, swinging his leg back and forth— _six seven eight_. Breathe in. Breathe out. Switch.

Shouyou opens his eyes. He has no idea what he’s doing. Why hadn’t anyone showed him what to do?

Is this enough warming up? He’s already warmed up for his jumps earlier, so it should be fine right? He could probably move on to practice runs now, right? Why couldn’t coach have given more direction?

Shouyou’s about to try to make a decision when he hears—

“All hurdlers gather at the start line for check in!” Is he out of time already? There’s no way!

Someone slams into Shouyou’s shoulder, and he whips his head to the left to glare at the offending competitor. He makes split-second direct eye contact with glaring, icy blue eyes before the other boy turns around, seemingly dismissing Shouyou’s presence as insignificant. The boisterous jumper is debating whether he should call out for an apology when the taller boy has already stridden away from Shouyou’s indecision. He catches a glimpse of the name on the back of the rude boy’s custom jacket.

 _Kageyama_.

* * *

Before he knows it, Shouyou’s lined up in the second row behind the doucherocket that shoved him earlier. The black-haired, blue-eyed runner is crouched in lane four, stretching his legs one by one in a lunge-like formation as he steps into the starting block. Shouyou doesn’t really know the guy, but he hopes he trips out of the block for his rude brush off earlier.

The guy stares intensely down at the starting line as he waits for the bang of the starting pistol, and everything starts moving in slow motion for Shouyou. He sees seemingly frame by frame as the smoke emanates from the gun and the hurdlers in front of him take off. He watches as Kageyama—that was his name right?—glides out of the starting block, form nothing like the ungraceful flailing Shouyou gets away with as he steps effortlessly over the hurdle with his right leg. Then again with his left. Then again with his right. Holy cow, he’s four-stepping. He’s only using four steps between each hurdle when Shouyou always uses at least five!

And then the moment passes, and Shouyou feels the wind of the first heat’s race brush through his hair. So that’s what _hurdling_ looks like. Shouyou feels a little embarrassed thinking about how he believed he’d been hurdling these past few weeks. No, Shouyou’s been running and jumping. But hurdling, _hurdling_ is a single continuous run, uninterrupted by the obstacles placed before one. _Hurdling_ is a race where the barriers in the way of your goals are what spur you on and ultimately, what allow you to reach you ambitions. _Hurdling_ is … the sport Shouyou’s been searching for his whole life. Hurdling is what will light him aflame and carry him into the future.

* * *

It was unfortunate really, that Shouyou got caught up in the moment, in the rare euphoria of understanding his own feelings—of having feelings! —and tripped his way out of the starting block. Okay. Not the smoothest start to a race, but not completely unsalvageable. He pumps his arms and legs as he approaches the hurdle. Don’t think, don’t think, don’t think.

His body automatically adjusts to the hurdling form he’s spent the last three weeks drilling into his body. _One two three for five_. Right. Right. Faster. If Shouyou could just cover more distance with each step, he could _catch. Up._ He’s coming up to the last hurdle and pushes with all the strength of his burning calves into the ball of his left foot— _two three four_ —holy shit! He’s flying over the last hurdle, left foot first—something he’s never practiced for. If Shouyou had been aware of himself, he may have had the widest grin on his face for completing his first four-step hurdle; instead, he’s gritting his teeth something fierce as he does a weir, small hop to regain his balance without rolling his ankle. Shouyou had been so taken off guard by his successful four-step that he’d fumbled the landing.

Now it’s just a straight fourteen meters to the finish line. He can do this. He can.

He looks up, and all he sees is Kageyama’s piercing, azure eyes staring at him with an unreadable, quizzical (constipated) look. Shouyou’s zoomed past the finishing line and catching his breath when he stomps up from the side lines.

“What … in the world … was that?!” The obvious prodigy grips harshly onto Shouyou’s bicep, dragging the shorter teen towards the grassy, inner field. “What have you been doing all this time?”

“I- Wha?” Shouyou stammers in confusion.

“What. Have. You,” the intimidating boy repeats slowly, jabbing Shouyou in the chest with each word, “Been. Doing. All. This. Time.”

“Wha?” Shouyou responds, confused.

The blue-eyed boy takes a deep breath. “You came out of nowhere! You’re on no one’s radar and all of a sudden, you’re hurdling like _that_? It’s obvious you don’t have technique down yet, but to be able to recover like that? To be able to get _first_ in your heat while freaking _five-stepping_? Where the hell have you been wasting all your time?”

“I-”

“You know what, never mind. I don’t know if I want to compete with someone who-”

“Hey, asshole,” Shouyou waves his hand in front of Kageyama’s face, interrupting the more experienced hurdler’s monologue, “This is, like, my third week hurdling! Slow down and stop insulting me.” And the boy is in his personal space again, grasping at the collar of his uniform.

“Your _third week_?!”

Shouyou shoves him back and crosses his arms. “Yeah, and? What about it?”

“You … you’re insane. What have you been doing all this time?” Kageyama can only repeat dumbly, unable to form a new sentence in his shock.

And really, that’s all it takes for Shouyou’s competitiveness to kick in. “Listen here, Kage-Whatever-Your-Name-Is, I don’t care if you’ve been hurdling since you’ve been in diapers, I’m going to become the best hurdler and beat you!” And with that, Shouyou makes a dramatic exit leftwards towards his team’s section of the bleachers. His dignified departure is only marred by the need to hobble on his heels once he gets to the concrete sidewalk.

* * *

Shouyou ends up placing ninth—just one place shy of receiving a ribbon. And it gnaws at him that _this_ was the best he could do when Bakayama, the stuck-up hurdler who confronted him after the race, was able to place first. It irks him to no end. It makes him hate hurdles a little bit, but at the same time, it makes him even more determined to run hurdles, to do better, to beat him.

He loves hurdles, he realizes, all while he hates it and its complicated, too-hard technique. Or rather, it’s not that he hates hurdles, but that he hates _being bad at hurdles_.

Really, it’s no comparison. Jumps? They’re just something that he’s good enough at. Good enough for praise, but not good enough to ever excel. But hurdles. Hurdles, Shouyou just knows, is where he’ll shine. Hurdles is where he’s destined to be.

So, with hardened resolve, Shouyou quits jumps for the rest of the summer, focusing solely on his sprints with the occasional hops over chairs, tables, rocks, logs, anything he can find. It’s the only way he thing he can really be doing with all his time. It’s nice … having a goal to work towards again.

* * *

High school comes with a larger school, a rash of new acquaintances, and not much change in Shouyou’s emotions. He pastes on a smile for everyone else, is quick to react and laugh, but inside, he’s waiting for that tender spark of something—something that hurdles had ignited—to touch him again and make him feel alive. School is boring. After school tutoring is boring. Everything is just … not enough to hold his attention anymore. He can’t wait for after school clubs to officially start instead of the odd limbo period between the start of school and club registration two weeks in.

The first week passes by excruciatingly slow. The second week feels like a minute has become an hour, and Shouyou becomes known by his teachers as the kid that can’t stop shaking his leg. It’s not really a good reputation to have, but Shouyou was never really at high school for academics so it doesn’t matter as much to him. He floats through the first two weeks at Karasuno High until his teacher finally announces club registrations to be open. It’s the first time Shouyou perks up since starting high school. Finally, he can actually practice with hurdles instead of only doing sprint workouts!

The moment Shouyou signs up for the Track & Field Team is less settling than he expected. There’s five coaches there, each in charge of different events, and they direct students to where the events are starting. Shouyou finds the sign that labelled High Jump, Hurdles, and Pole Vault. Behind it is a coach with bleached blond hair and piercings. He looks intimidating, but Shouyou didn’t train all summer and pin all his hopes on hurdles just to be scared off by a delinquent looking coach.

Shouyou approaches and sinks into a bow, “Hinata Shouyou, 1st year! I’m going to run hurdles, please accept my registration form!” He shoves the slightly wrinkled paper in front of him, hoping he won’t accidentally nail the teacher in the nose or something—that’d just be like his luck for that to happen.

“Mah, no need to be so stiff,” the coach drawls with a smirk as he gently takes the paper from Shouyou, “I’m Coach Ukai. Is hurdles going to be your only event?”

“Yes,” Shouyou grins broadly, genuinely, “I want to become the best hurdler in all of Japan!”

“Well, I certainly like that spirit of yours,” Ukai chuckles, “What were your times in middle school?”

Shouyou frowns a little as he tries to remember, but he spent all of middle school remembering his jumps length, not hurdles times. That combined with his shitty memory meant that he didn’t have an answer for his coach. “Uh, well … I kind of just started three weeks before conference,” Shouyou replies, a little sheepish, “so I don’t really remember my times.”

“The Boke’s time 18.54,” a voice deadpans from behind Shouyou. He whips his head around, only to see piercing blue eyes he had not expected to meet here.

And all he can do is let his jaw drop as he points dramatically at the other boy. “You! What are you doing here?”

“Me?” the taller boy repeats back to Shouyou, “I’d like to ask you the same question!”

“Well, I asked first,” Shouyou insists petulantly.

The other hurdler looks like he’s about to protest again when a curious look from Coach Ukai shuts him up. “I heard Coach Ukai was going to be here,” he mutters.

“Him?” Shouyou asks, confused, at the same time that Ukai shouts, “ME?”

“Hmm, well I thought it’d be _the_ Coach Ukai, but at least this way I don’t have to deal with Oikawa-senpai.”

“Dude, what kind of messed up senpais did you have that made you that desperate to get away?” the orange-haired runner wonders out loud.

“Literally the worst, most sadistic, cocky person you never want to meet.”

“Oh, that’s rich, coming from you.”

Ukai isn’t even able to get in another word before the two rivals walk off, bickering back and forth as they head towards the storage room where the hurdles were stored, already settling into a comfortable, competitive dynamic.

* * *

Kageyama may not be the best at explaining things, but when he _showed_ Shouyou what hurdling was supposed to look like, things started to click. Instinctively, Shouyou’s body knew how to adjust, and with each time he stepped through the hurdles, the blue-eyed prodigy sniped at him less. At the end of the first day at Track Club, Shouyou’s knees were bruised but his smile was wide.

“Kageyama, I got you all wrong this whole time; you really are amazing! I can’t believe I’ve improved this much just from watching you go through the exercises!” Shouyou gushes excitedly, arms moving in wide sweeps to emphasize his points.

“They’re pretty simple exercises, Boke!” Kageyama deflects embarrassedly, “If you were a good hurdler, you’d have already known how to do them without leeching off me.”

“You’re still pretty awesome to show me!” Shouyou insists, “At my old school none of the coaches ever had time to show anyone anything!”

Kageyama frowns, “What? How are you supposed to learn then?”

“I don’t know,” Shouyou shrugs, “usually I’d learn from videos or until something hurts. We had so many people on the team, the coaches never had the time for individual attention unless they were for sure going to Prefectures.”

Kageyama looks like he’s hesitating to say something so Shouyou just nods vigorously—hopefully encouragingly—at him. He takes a half-step back before squaring his jaws. “Ignoring people who want to learn like that … it doesn’t seem … right.”

“No, it wasn’t, but it was the best they could do,” Shouyou repeats the justification he’s held onto all this time.

“All the same,” Kageyama replies, eyes flashing intensely, “it still isn’t right.”

Shouyou can’t help but agree with him.

* * *

The next day, Shouyou absorbs even less from his classes than he normally does, but he can’t help it; he’s just so excited to get back to the gym and hurdle with Kageyama again. Man, he really did misunderstand the prodigy when they first met. He feels kind of bad about that even though Kageyama misunderstood him too. Maybe he should apologize? … Nah, the blue-eyed hurdler doesn’t seem like someone who’s very good with words, and, well, Shouyou’s never been good with words either. What Kageyama looked like he needed most … is someone who can compete with him. As breathtaking as his form was at Conference, he had looked so incredibly lonely … so angry that someone who could’ve kept up with him had squandered so much time away.

And, well, Shouyou had always been bad at guarding his heart; the moment anyone showed him a modicum of understanding … whoosh! He’s gone and made something special of their relationship. He clings and clings and hopes he won’t be tossed to the wayside _this_ time. And if this failing of Shouyou’s can help Kageyama in some way? Then it doesn’t matter that Shouyou had gone into high school ready to hate his guts. It doesn’t matter that Kageyama’s words all those months ago had _hurt_. It doesn’t matter. Because Shouyou has made up his mind; he’ll become the rival that can push Kageyama to new heights.

* * *

The next day, they meet the rest of the team. There’s Tanaka, who was amazed that Shouyou called him senpai and proceeded to pledge his undying fealty as an upperclassman to Shouyou. His antics along with Nishinoya’s were immensely amusing even though Shouyou could already see Kageyama’s eyebrow twitching from across the room at their perceived lack of dedication to practice—which wasn’t true! They already had some pretty great tips for Shouyou when he asked about how to use a starting block more effectively. Then there was the soft-spoken Asahi-senpai who seemed to form a group with Sugawara (“Just call me Suga, dear”) and Daichi (“Welcome to the team … we’ll get along just fine as long as you follow the rules”), the captain of the team.

There were also quite a few teammates from other sports, just there to stay in shape in their off season. Shouyou had tried to talk to them, but they just ignored them and stayed in their little cliques. It was kind of disappointing, but Shouyou comforted himself with the knowledge that he at least had Kageyama who wouldn’t ignore him.

Everyone was milling around, waiting for the coaches to start the meeting when Shouyou saw the intimidating coach with bleached blond hair motion for Daichi to come up. He whispered something in the captain’s ear, and the brown-haired runner nodded a few times. Then he turned to the crowd, clapping loudly twice.

“Alright guys! Ukai-sensei had something come up,” he points his thumb at the blond coach—so that’s his name!—while addressing the crowd, “so we’ll be splitting up into groups. Sprinters with me! That includes hurdlers! Throwers with Asahi; he’s the gentle giant with the long hair brown hair tied in a bun. Distance runners, you’re with Suga, the grey-haired goofball next to me. And, jumpers, you’re with Ennoshita, the plain looking one over here.” As he mentions which senpais people should be following, Daichi slaps his corresponding friend in the back good-naturedly, making it obvious he was teasing them and not being malicious with his descriptions.

“They’ll be showing you our standard dynamic warm-ups and then bringing you through today’s workout. Asahi, go with Circuit 10; Suga, however many miles you think will be good for the newbs; Ennoshita, go with the abs Circuit A.” The named teammates nod their assent and left to spread out and give the gathering crowds more space.

“Well, hop to it, kouhai,” Daichi smiles, “and good luck with your first day of practice. One word of advice: don’t die.”

* * *

Shouyou had _thought_ he was in good shape, but he’s sure no one would even try to claim to be in good shape after that work out. Everyone was collapsed on the floor, desperately trying to catch their breath—even Kageyama!

Everyone, that is, except for Daichi.

“Good job,” their captain praises with a smile once the sound of gasping teenagers had died down a bit, “it looks like you survived … this time.”

“You call this surviving?” Tanaka quips, only to be silenced by Daichi’s mock glare. Nishinoya, on the other hand, had no such qualms.

“Daichi’s just that awesome, yea? I mean, he’s the only reason why any of us were halfway decent last year …”

“You’re right but that doesn’t mean I haven’t died twenty times over from his excessive workouts,” Tanaka continues complaining

“I can add more for you, specifically, if you want, Tanaka,” Daichi smirks, uncrossing his arms.

“No sir. They’re not excessive, sir,” Tanaka backtracks quickly.

“That’s what I thought.”

This … totally wasn’t how Shouyou thought track practice was going to go at all.

Daichi grins. “Now for cooldowns.”

* * *

As the practices go on, Shouyou starts to settle into a pattern: wake up, finish last minute homework, go to class, zone out, go to practice!, argue with Kageyama, more practice, go home, fall asleep on his dinner, attempt some homework (and fail), fall asleep on homework, get up to fall asleep in an actual bed, and repeat. It’s something routine, somewhat repetitive …, yet, Shouyou can’t help but feel excited every time he gets to go to practice. Sure, Daichi is a tough taskmaster, and yeah, Kageyama can be an annoying little shit sometimes, but they’re all there to push him to new heights, to drag Shouyou along into their world of exhilaration and splendor, to squeeze every last drop of potential out of Shouyou.

There’s something incredibly satisfying in knowing you’ve given something your all—especially to someone as flighty as Shouyou, who has never been able to muster up the dedication to go all out.

* * *

For a while, Shouyou’s brain is consumed, dialed in on only his next workout and competing with Kageyama. He’s so focused on those two things that he doesn’t even realize there are other first years training along with them. It comes to a head during the latest interval training Daichi wanted them to try.

“What, the King too good to talk to us?” a tall boy with curly blond hair sniped at Kageyama, “Too busy cavorting with your orange-haired chibi to acknowledge our mere peasants’ existence?”

“Tsukki,” his green-haired friend hisses as he jabs sharply in the chest.

“What? I’m just telling the truth.”

“You don’t have to be so rude to our teammates though,” his freckled friend allows.

“Yamaguchi, who’s side are you on here?” ‘Tsukki’ pouts.

“Yo,” Shouyou interrupts, finally having comprehend that he was the ‘orange-haired chibi’ the glasses-wearing sprinter was referring to, “Who you calling short?”

And it all escalates from there, Shouyou somehow pulling Kageyama into the scuffle with mock punches being thrown and hands being grabbed as the four athletes grapple with each other.

“And what the f … is going on here?” Daichi thunders, the force of his voice enough to freeze all the combatants, mid-motion. No one dares speak a word.

Daichi crosses his arms. “If no one says anything in the next thirty seconds, there will be consequences.”

They all scramble to talk over the other, but Shouyou gets the loudest excuse out the quickest. “Tsukki or whatever his name is over there was insulting Kageyama—”

“Only because you guys were being rude,” interjects Yamaguchi.

“—And then he insulted me too,” Shouyou continues.

“ _He_ can speak for himself, and if that’s what you count as an insult …” Tsukki continues to be antagonistic.

“Boke, I don’t need you defending me,” Kageyama contributes.

“Alright everyone shut up,” Daichi ends up snapping as he pinches the bridge of his nose, “I think I see what’s going on here.” He takes a deep breath.

“Kageyama, we’ve heard from your middle school that despite your talent, you’ve had problems getting along with people. Tsukishima, you need to stop antagonizing everyone; we’ve already gotten reports from some second years that you provoked them into fights as well. Yamaguchi, as admirable as it is to defend your friend, please try to temper him a bit more. And Hinata, you need to try to be less susceptible to provocations. Got it?”

“Hah, he said you’re gullible,” Tsukki snipes under his breath, and Shouyou can _feel_ his temper rising, just begging to be released—except he tamps down on his brain to mouth filter for once and swallows his reaction. Their captain, however, does not.

“Alright, that’s it. Sure, the track team has to put up with teammates who are only here for conditioning and not for the actual sport itself, but none of you are here for that reason. I won’t put up with in-fighting amongst _actual_ members of this team.” He mulls over something for a bit before nodding once.

“You guys are all sprinters and jumpers, right?” he doesn’t wait for a response as he continues, “To teach you guys to get along, you will be running the four by four _together_ at our first meet in two weeks. Hinata first, Tsukishima second, Kageyama third, Yamaguchi last. You guys won’t be allowed to take part in your usual events during this meet; just the four by four. Go to Tanaka or Ennoshita for help on passing. Good luck. Now go home.”

* * *

The next day was a technique day, but Kageyama and Shouyou were banned from touching hurdles, and apparently Tsukishima and Yamaguchi were banned from pole vaulting and high jumps. Kageyama marches right up to Shouyou, grabbing him by the collar again. “You, why’d you have to drag me into your conflict?” he growls, and this is getting old. It’s only the second time, and it’s the first time since middle school, but it’s already getting old. Shouyou shoves him back, forcing the blue-eyed hurdler to let him go.

“It wasn’t just me you know! Glasses-san over there insulted you, and _you_ responded too.”

“Well I didn’t ask to be put on a relay; in fact, I swore off running relays entirely,” the prodigy snarls, stormy blue eyes flashing with frustration.

“What, the King too good to show some _team_ work?” Tsukishima goads like the little shit he is.

Shouyou’s just about to shout back at snarky first year when Kageyama _explodes_.

“Yeah, I’m better than relays. All I need to rely is myself because teammates will _always_ let you down.”

“What? Bakayama! How can you think that? Teammates are like the best part of being in a sport,” Shouyou frowns, suddenly confused. Was Tsukishima in the right this entire time?

“You know,” the curly haired blond drawls, “I heard a pretty interesting story, _Chibisuke_. Tell me, do you know why Stubborn-kun over here is called King?”

“Stop it Tsukki, you shouldn’t antagonize them anymore. You already got us in trouble yesterday,” Yamaguchi timidly interjects.

“Shouldn’t Chibisuke know though—in the interest of team bonding, of course,” the glasses wearing first year responds smoothly. Yamaguchi doesn’t look happy about this, but evidently the freckled first year agrees since he didn’t say another word.

“No, I don’t … know why Bakayama is called King that is,” Shouyou finally admits.

Tsukishima has a shit-eating grin on his face, wide enough to almost split his face in half, “Well, you’re in for a pretty shocking story then. I heard from some runners from other schools that he used to be the star four by four runner—perfect handoffs, great form, and everything. But his relay got tired of his demands that they time everything to _his_ pace, that they run faster than they could, so one day, during one of the last relays of the season—just far enough off from Prefectures to sub in a new teammate for the Prefecture race—they decided to fumble the pass given to the King, here, specifically. _They_ were the ones to give the King his name. He’s a king that’s been abandoned by his people once; what’s to say we won’t abandon him again this time? If you do anything I dislike, I won’t hesitate to bring up my complaints; I’m not like your old teammates, I won’t just sit there and take it 'til I can’t anymore.”

Shouyou’s shocked. He never knew Kageyama had been treated like that by his teammates. And, well, it’s not like he was completely in the right there, but what his teammates did just seemed like such an overreaction. To throw an entire race just to prove a point? Just because your teammate was pushing you to do better? Shouyou just couldn’t understand such actions.

“So, what? Bakayama pushed them to be better and they couldn’t take it? That’s on them,” Shouyou stares uncomprehendingly at Tsukishima, “Are you saying you won’t be able to keep up? Because that’s what is sounds like to me.”

The exasperate, glasses-wearing athlete is about to respond when Tanaka walks up to the group.

“Alright, alright break it up kouhai!” he shouts cheerfully, “You guys don’t want to get in trouble for getting into another fight do you?”

He glances at the poor, unknowing first years, “Because, trust me, it can get worse. You think the four by four is bad? Wait 'til Daichi pulls out the big guns and assigns you to the four by eight.”

They all stare at him in horror. The four by eight is the notoriously least popular event—eight hundred meters being too short for distance runners to be comfortable with yet too long for sprinters to endure.

“Please,” Yamaguchi whimpers, “Anything but that.”

Tanaka ruffles both Yamaguchi and Tsukishima’s hair roughly, pretending he doesn’t have to reach upwards to do so. “That’s my good kouhai!” he cheers, “Now, who’s which position?”

“Um, I’m,” Yamaguchi starts timidly but is interrupted by Shouyou, who’s too excited to wait any longer.

“I’m third! Is that a good position? Tell me it’s a good position!”

“Boke, the fastest runner is always put in the last leg,” Kageyama scolds.

“Whatever you say, King. I’m the second leg, and Yamaguchi’s the first leg,” Tsukishima contributes lazily.

Tanaka put his index and thumb on his chin, making a thinking pose. “Ah, I get it now; I see what Daichi-san was doing,” he laughs once he puts the positions together. “Alright, I’m usually the first leg, so Yamaguchi, Tsukishima, come with me. Kageyama, Hinata, go with Ennoshita.”

“Aw, but I wanted to learn from you, Tanaka-senpai,” Shouyou complains. He _was_ looking forward to learning from the coolest senpai he’s had.

“I’m so sorry, kouhai,” Tanaka fake bawls dramatically, “It’s not you, it’s me. I wish—”

Whatever he was going to say is cut off by Ennoshita jabbing him in the stomach. “Get moving, Ryu. You two, come with me; we’ll be practicing in the far corner by the high jumpers.”

* * *

In the next forty-five minutes, Ennoshita explains to the impulsive duo the trick behind baton exchanges.

“It all comes down to timing and understanding your teammate’s timing,” here he looks particularly at Kageyama, “You have to learn to adjust yourself to your teammates pace all without compromising on your own stride length. It takes a lot of practice, so don’t be discouraged if you can’t get it right away.” The last remark was aimed at Shouyou.

“Karasuno’s words are ‘crow’ and ‘stick.’ ‘Crow’ for when the next person should start running; ‘stick’ for when he should reach his left hand back. You’re both right-handed, right? Well, make sure you reach your left hand back for the pass and switch the baton afterwards instead of the other way around.”

The technique sounds so complicated and official; it makes Shouyou so excited. He feels like he should take notes, but he’s so overflowing with energy, he’s not sure he’d be able to write down cohesive notes in the first place.

“Ennoshita-senpai! Ennoshita-senpai! Can we just try it?” Shouyou bursts out. It feels strange to be filled with this much positivity—like listening to a favorite song he’d forgotten existed.

“Calm down, Hinata-kun. We’ll work our way up, starting with slow jog to sprint practices, got it?”

“Of course!”

Thus, began many, many rounds of Shouyou falling flat on his face, overshooting Kageyama’s position, not being able to catch up to Kageyama’s position, and yells of “Hinata, boke!”

* * *

It wasn’t until Kageyama had the bright idea to have Shouyou stop focusing on _actually passing the baton_ that they got anywhere. It turned out, Shouyou slowed down quite a bit when he was too focused on aiming for the flat of Kageyama’s left palm. Instead, Kageyama suggested that he focus as if he were running straight through the ‘finish line,’ skipping the yell of crow entirely and simply yelling ‘stick’ when the pass is about to occur. It put more of the timing on Kageyama, but he assured—yelled at—Shouyou that it was fine, that, in fact, the blue-eyed prodigy preferred it this way. It was an adjustment, but Shouyou’s speed was able to keep up with Kageyama’s impressive stride length, and slowly, step by step, pass by pass, they came to a silent understanding of each other.

* * *

If Shouyou had thought that matching up with Kageyama was hard, then matching up with Tsukishima was impossible. The glasses wearing teen was like a prickly porcupine, flexing his spikes one minute then berating him for being wary to approach the next minute. They didn’t have the same problem that Kageyama and Shouyou did; rather, they could only achieve mediocre passes. It was frustrating in a completely different way—one that didn’t have the throbbing of bruises or stinging of scrapes to satisfy Shouyou’s need for tangible evidence of his hard work.

It had seemed all was doomed to fall apart in their relay when Yamaguchi finally stepped in as a mediator.

“Tsukki, stop intentionally throwing the timing off, and Hinata-san you have to trust him instead of looking back all the time. The reason why Tsukki keeps hesitating is because it doesn’t look like you trust him either,” Yamaguchi explains simply.

Shouyou pulls at his hair in frustration. “Why couldn’t you have said that in the first place??!” he directs at the snarky blond.

“Why should I work with you if you don’t trust me?” he snipes back.

“Well, it’s not like you’ve given _me_ reason to trust you either!” the orange-haired hurdler fights back.

Tsukishima looks like he’s about to argue again, but one glare from his green-haired best friend silences him.

“Stop being children, the both of you! Don’t you see this is the reason why we’re in this mess of a relay in the first place? I know Tsukki and I would rather be pole vaulting and you and Kageyama-san would probably rather be hurdling, but we’re here now!” Yamaguchi yells in frustration, eyes wide at his own audacity.

Shit. He’s right. It’s just … Tsukishima just _knows_ how to push Shouyou’s buttons in a way that sends him—not spiraling, but almost—and not in the same way as Kageyama who pushes him to do better. The short hurdler’s jaw is clenched, body tense. He feels … so much. So, he doesn’t think he can apologize verbally, but he can definitely try to be civil. He bows once, just shy of ninety degrees, towards the freckled pole vaulter before turning back to his bespectacled tormenter.

“Let’s go again,” Shouyou gets out, “and this time I promise to trust.”

At least he’s feeling something.

“Fine.”

Even if it’s frustration.

“Fine.”

Even if he wants to cry.

* * *

It works. It’s frustrating, but it works. Tsukishima and Shouyou figure out how to match up, and soon enough, it’s the day of their first meet. Shouyou’s … looking forward to something for the first time in a while—even if he doesn’t get to hurdle here.

He can pretend. And he can watch. It’ll have to be enough.

The team is on their way to meet’s location when it happens; Shouyou feels the rumbling of this stomach, the anxiety bubbling up acridly at the back of his throat. He tries to signal to Tanaka that he needs the window opened, but his senpai doesn’t understand his frantic movements in time. He ends up throwing up on Tanaka’s lap.

Of freaking course. Of course, nothing goes one hundred percent right in Shouyou’s life ever. The only saving grace is that the bald sprinter was wearing his sweats, and thus still had an unsoiled uniform for the actual races.

Shouyou tries apologizing emphatically, but Tanaka just laughs it off. At least Tsukishima was in the second bus and not actually here to make fun of the orange-haired hurdler. He’d probably actually cry at this point if the blond made fun of him. ~~(No, he wouldn’t; Shouyou’s experienced enough to hold it in until he’s alone.)~~

It ends up taking less time than Shouyou expected for them to reach the school that is hosting the meet, and within seconds, all of the calm he had cultivated is gone. His stomach is roiling, and the orange-haired sprinter takes a deep breath, holding his hand over his mouth—just in case. He’s stuck in a vicious cycle of anxiety making his stomach worse and his stomach’s worsening condition contributing to worsening anxiety when Kageyama smacks him across the back of his head.

“Boke! You’ll be fine. You have me on your team, after all,” he mutters somehow both explosively and quietly. “Now calm down.”

Somehow it works.

Shouyou steps off the bus, takes a deep breath of fresh air. This is the beginning of the rest of his life.

Well, the beginning will start after he goes to the bathroom—just in case.

* * *

If asked in the moment, Shouyou would’ve said he was going to remember every detail of that first meet forever. If asked even a few hours after the meet, he would sheepishly admit parts of day was already a blur to him. Going to the bathroom before such an important competition? That fell under the blurred-out category. And it wasn’t like it wasn’t an eventful moment; the short sprinter has vague impressions of bumping into some scary (tall) competitors from rival schools before making his way (not escaping!) to where Kageyama and the rest of the team had set down their bags.

He spaces out in a haze of anxiety and excitement until hours later he’s being smacked on his bicep by his blue-eyed rival’s slides. “C’mon, Boke. It’s time to warm-up.”

“Oh, oh. Okay.”

Shouyou gets up and jogs the few laps in tense silence with Kageyama and the rest of their relay team, Tsukishima giving weird subtle glances.

“Just spit it out,” Kageyama finally growls once they make their second lap of dynamic stretches with the blond still glancing and Shouyou still twitching from it.

“What, the King wants me t—”

Yamaguchi smacks him on the back of his head. “Play nice, Tsukki.”

The curly-haired pole vaulter looks, disgruntled, at his best friend. “Spit what out … Kageyama-san?”

“Why are you looking at Hinata so weirdly?”

“Hmmph.”

“Tsukki.” There’s some warning in the freckled athlete’s voice.

A pause. Then, “Fine. But I’ll only say this once. I’m sorry I was rude to you before. Let’s do our good in this race or whatever.”

“For sure, Tsukishima-san!” Shouyou reacts, injecting almost too much brightness in his voice. “We’re gonna rock the competition.”

“Yeah.”

Kageyama nods, signaling that, for the first time, the entire team is in agreement about something. It makes Shouyou even more excited for his upcoming race.

They do a couple of handoff practices, hands clammy. “I, uh, think I might have to go to the bathroom again,” Shouyou volunteers right as the track officials call for four by four relay members to check in.

“Boke, it’s just the nerves. You’ll be fine. C’mon let’s go or we’ll be late,” his taller rival tries to reassure him in his own way.

A genuine smile somehow spread itself across Shouyou’s face. “Alright,” he accepts Kageyama’s hand, “Let’s go.”

* * *

They’re lined up with the other junior varsity teams, and Shouyou can’t stop fidgeting. Directly next to them, there’s a team to their left in yellow and green uniforms with intimidating smirks on their faces and a team to their right in turquoise uniforms with white lettering and an air of arrogance. The rest of teams are a mix of the cornflower blue and white of Tokonami High, more yellow and green from an additional Nohebi Academy team, and an overwhelming amount of Seijoh turquoise.

Shouyou clenches his hand, the phantom feeling of Kageyama’s encouragement is enough to calm him down from intimidation-induced anxiety. They can do this. He closes his eyes and breathes in deeply. With his exhale, he opens his eyes, head entering a sort of focused space where everything else is blurred out to the background and his single-minded intensity is aimed at only what he has to do.

The four Karasuno runners are uncharacteristically quiet, missing the taunts from the Nohebi teams and posturing of the Seijoh teams. It won’t matter until later. Kageyama makes eye contact with Shouyou and nods his head once, smirking. His eyes convey his unspoken belief in his rival.

“On your mark …,” the referee starts when the starting sprinters have all finished adjusting their starting block.

“… get set …” Yamaguchi crouches in ready position, head bent in concentration.

Boom! The gun’s blank goes off. The race has started.

* * *

Even watching from the sidelines, Shouyou knows something’s off immediately. Yamaguchi seems to be getting jostled around, which, fine, it was part of the race, but usually, the freckled pole-vaulter was able to push back and assert his own space. Yet, this time, he seemed unable to do so. As they turn, Shouyou feels everything go into slow motion as he zones in on a golden baton being shoved into Yamaguchi’s side, followed quickly by another on the other side. _Nohebi_. The orange-haired hurdler is just about to say something when he sees the black-haired Nohebi runner to Yamaguchi’s right step—spikes and all—onto the Karasuno sprinter. Karasuno’s third leg sees his teammate’s black uniform dip as he stumbles before visibly gritting his teeth and correcting his form. However, it’s too late. Karasuno’s stuck towards the back of the pack already.

Shouyou’s jumping up to do something—anything—but Kageyama shakes his head as the track official gives the short first year a disapproving look. He ends up slumping back down, heart relocating itself to his ears.

Shoot. Sh-oot. _Shoot._

How are they going to do this? How is he ever going to get to run hurdles?

Then, a hand on his shoulder, an unexpected but comfortable weight. He looks up straight into the Nordic sea. “Boke, don’t start doubting now … after all, we’re on this team.”

“Don’t underestimate me,” Tsukishima adds sourly, then softly, “or yourself. You may be a chibisuke, but you’re fast. The King and I are tall. Yamaguchi will be fine out there.”

In unison, they look at their currently racing teammate. He had a fierce look on his face, one that vaguely reminded Shouyou of their strict captain. Yeah, he was going to be fine.

All Shouyou can do is his best … and hope that his best is enough.

* * *

It was all going well until it wasn’t. Shouyou had allowed his hopes to soar when he saw how well Yamaguchi was doing, the way he had edged his way into sixth—the short hurdler was almost optimistic that their team could catch back up to first. The freckled first leg runner was cusping on fourth, swapping back and forth with a Nohebi team, when he approached the exchange zone. Tsukishima already had his running goggles on, ready to sprint. The two waiting runners were lined up next to each other with Nohebi in the first lane. They adjust, and when the exchange happens, Shouyou’s eyes widen. He watches as Nohebi swings a wide arc, pretending to fumble their pass, causing Yamaguchi to recoil back on instinct, despite the baton never touching him. It happens in an instant and Tsukishima has already had to slow down to adjust for Yamaguchi’s flinch. Nohebi swings their arm back in a smooth arc, ‘regaining’ their balance quite a bit smoother than they should have been able to. Their second runner takes off, and in the time lost to the interruption to their rhythm, Tsukishima and Yamaguchi are passed by the seventh place Seijoh team. The gap between first and Karasuno widens, and with it, Shouyou’s hope feels just that much further out of reach.

* * *

Shouyou’s jumping nervously in place. He knows he shouldn’t be wasting energy like that, but he’s anxious about being able to catch up. In the time it took the curly haired blond to regain start accelerating again, eighth place has caught up to be neck and neck with Karasuno. Things don’t look too good, but the blond is been able to steadily close the gap between him and fifth place. There’s still probably fifty meters between him and fifth place when last place starts jostling him. It doesn’t look good, and with every team that passes Shouyou waiting at the exchange zone, the orange-haired runner’s anxiety skyrockets.

“Hurry up, you dehydrated bean pole,” Shouyou whispers half to himself and half into the void, hoping Tsukishima feels the impact of the words.

Whatever it was, something seemed to have work because the curly-haired speeds up, and Hinata. Just. Knows. He gets in position at the official’s nod, crouched for a lower center of gravity. 

He sees the moment his taller teammate gets close enough and takes off, not even waiting for the ‘crow,’ no hesitation in his steps, trusting, _trusting_ that Tsukishima will be able to catch up.

 _Stick_.

The blond doesn’t have the breath to say the word, but Shouyou knows the timing by now. He reaches back, and the baton makes contact with the palm of his left hand. He pumps his left arm forward, imagining it adding further momentum, switching the baton to his right hand as he went. Yamaguchi had done his part. Tsukishima did his as well. Now, it was time for Shouyou.

* * *

Shouyou tries to keep everything he’s learned about good form over the past few days in mind: pump his arms straight—no crossing, that’ll twist his torso and slow him down— lift his knee as far up as he can, stay on the toes of his feet. Go. Go. Go.

Go.

Before the race, the noise of the track was overwhelming, yet, now, all Shouyou can hear is a roaring in his ears, a silence born from pure concentration. The crowd melts into the background, sound fading out—even the distinctive smell of Salonpas disappears. All that’s left is the motion of putting one foot in front of another and the burn in his arms and legs. Shouyou needs to catch up. He needs this.

So, he sprints and sprints, not registering the surprised expression on his competitors’ faces. He runs like his life depends on it, counting slowly in his head. One more lap. Two more straightaways. One more curve.

His left foot lands on a line in the straightaway, and Shouyou looks. He looks up, dialing in only on Kageyama, waiting expectantly, confidently. The orange-haired sprinter feels his calves burning, the feeling crawling up towards his quads as well. He could stop. He knows that would alleviate the unpleasant feeling.

… But no, Kageyama is waiting. If there’s one person he can’t let down, it’s his rival. He has to keep going. Shouyou grits his teeth into a reasonable facsimile of a smile. Kageyama’s icy gaze locks onto Shouyou; it’s somehow enough for the lagging runner to gain what could be called a second wind. Shouyou puts even more speed into the final stretch.

Run through the finish line, Shouyou repeats as a mantra in his head. Run through. Run through. He closes his eyes five steps away from Kageyama.

“STICK!”

* * *

The moment Shouyou lets go of the baton, he’s opening his eyes, veering to the right as he slows down from his accelerated sprint. He glances quickly to his left, jaw dropping in shock as he realizes that he had caught up to fifth place before passing the baton to his rival. He’s in a daze, not really realizing what’s happening as his silver-haired senpai passes him a water bottle and guides him off the track and back into the inner field, leaving the younger athlete to collect his bearings after congratulating him.

Shouyou looks back onto the track, where Kageyama had already closed quite a bit of the distance between himself and the leading pack of four.

It was all up to Kageyama now.

He watches, unable to tear his eyes away. I’s like he’s in middle school all over again, watching Kageyama’s beautiful form pull off miracles on the track. He may not be watching the blue-eyed athlete run hurdles this time, but Shouyou is no less mesmerized.

The dark-haired sprinter rounds the corner onto the final curve, somehow accelerating even more, passing up the lagging fourth place Seijoh team. And in that moment, everything else fades away again until Shouyou is aware only of the track, Kageyama, and the finish line. He watches his taller, graceful rival reach the last straightaway on the tail of the first and second place Seijoh and Nohebi teams. The three approach the finish line neck in neck and Shouyou strains to keep his eyes open, unblinking. He can’t miss this. He can’t miss their victory.

And the moment is glorious, won by a distance invisible to the naked eye, victory attributed to Kageyama’s superior form. Seijoh, Nohebi, and Kageyama all collapse in a heap together once they decelerate from the final stretch. They’re the only ones panting; everyone else is holding their breath, waiting for the official’s announcement of the F. A. T. times.

Shouyou makes his way over to where Kageyama is still catching his breath. He shoulders Kageyama’s body so that the boy can be standing when the results are announced.

“Boys’ Junior Varsity Four by Four … in first place; Yamaguchi, Tsukishima, Hinata, and Kageyama …”

Everything fades out and in a moment of pure excitement, triumph, and admiration; Shouyou turns around, grips his rivals face with both his hands, and kisses him directly on the lips. He’s so ecstatic, he doesn’t even realize when Kageyama starts kissing him back.

* * *

Shouyou and Tobio walk out of the meet to the sound of Noya and Tanaka’s yelling, Tsukishima’s smirk, Yamaguchi’s wide grin, and their pinkies joined. Daichi promises them that they will be allowed to start hurdling again at the next practice. Nothing could be better.

* * *

After sleeping a full sixteen hours for once in his life, Shouyou wakes up, semi-recovered from the meet.

He smiles at his new lock screen, a picture of Tobio and himself biting their first-place medals, the taller boy’s left arm slung around Shouyou’s shoulder. He texts a heart to his newly official boyfriend, turns around, and goes back to sleep.

The orange-haired hurdler wakes up to a responding heart emoji from Tobio.

* * *

Monday comes around, and it’s finally time for Shouyou and Tobio’s hurdle ban to be lifted. The shorter athlete is so excited he practically vibrates his way through class, getting reprimanded by his teachers for being distracted.

The last class’s bell rings, and Shouyou is already shooting out of his chair, racing to the locker room to get changed. Tobio had bet him a week’s worth of drinks that he’d be the first one on the field and Shouyou wasn’t about to miss out on that. He’s bouncing everywhere, weaving in and out of crowds when they both slap the front door of the locker rooms at the same time.

“I was first, Tobaka!” Shouyou claims loudly.

“Boke, it was me,” Tobio corrects.

“Was not.”

“Was too.”

It was nice that they’re dynamic hadn’t changed too drastically with the change in relationship; after all, their competitions and status as rivals were half the fun.

* * *

Even with the distraction of their competition, the two first year hurdlers are still the first ones at the practice gym, making it there even before Daichi. When their captain gets there, he introduces them to a hurdler form the girls’ track team.

“This is Kiyoko Shimizu, the varsity two hurdler from the girls’ team,” Daichi introduces, “she has the best form in the prefecture. You’d do well to learn from her.”

At Tobio’s disbelieving look, Daichi adds, “It’s been proven via video analysis.”

Tobio starts to pout, and Shouyou gives him a peck on the cheek to soothe his bruised ego, causing the blue-eyed boy to blush. Daichi gives a commendable effort at pretending he didn’t see anything. “I’ll be leaving you in her care today.”

“Please take care of us!” Shouyou and Tobio direct towards Kiyoko, who just blushes.

“Come, we’ll practice hurdles in the corner … right next to the pole vaulters.

“Darn,” Shouyou comment half-jokingly, “we have to deal with Saltyshima already?”

“Play nice, you two,” Kiyoko scolds in a joking manner.

“Of course, senpai!” Shouyou responds at the same time that Tobio nods silently.

“Alright, I’m going to go over warm-ups first …”

* * *

As Shouyou and Tobio can-can their way through the warm-ups Kiyoko is showing them, they keep up a soft, casual discussion. Kiyoko’s smiling gently as she supervises them in the new exercises.

“The worst hurdle injury I’ve ever gotten was a gash across my shin from a broken hurdle,” Tobio brags a tad bit loudly.

Shouyou pouts. This isn’t fair, he hasn’t been hurdling as long, so of course he hasn’t had as many opportunities to get hurt! “Aww man, mine’s a bruise,” the shorter hurdler finally admits.

“And mine’s my collarbone,” Kiyoko interrupts, one upping both of them with an uncharacteristic smirk.

Tobio stops the can-can leg stretches suddenly, causing Shouyou, who was performing the same exercise after him, to crash into the taller boy, both hurdlers falling in a heap on the ground.

“What?” Shouyou finally gets out once he’s standing again, “Are you okay, Kiyoko-senpai?!”

“Ah, yeah, it happened a while ago … in the last year of middle school if I remember correctly,” she assures the two younger boys.

“IN MIDDLE SCHOOL?!” Tobio shouts out, incredulous.

“Hmmm, yeah,” Kiyoko muses, “I had a neck brace and crutches for a while, but I’m here now, aren’t I? Couldn’t stop me from hurdling.”

Shouyou just stares at his upperclassman in awe. He hopes one day to have the same quiet passion, unshakeable surety in the love for the sport that Kiyoko so clearly possesses. What would it be like, Shouyou wonders, to dedicate himself so wholly to a sport—to the erasion of any kind of fear? He looks over his right shoulder at the admiring look in Tobio’s eyes. The orange-haired athlete shakes his head. No rush, he can get there at his own pace—his and Tobio’s.

He turns back to Kiyoko, who is starting to look a bit embarrassed, “That’s so awesome; you’re so cool, Kiyoko-senpai!”

She smiles back at him. Yeah, he can take his time.

* * *

In the next few days leading up to their first major meet—a special relay meet for sprinters—Shouyou and Tobio practice hard. They learn all about the number of steps between hurdles and work on decreasing that gap for themselves. The day Tobio is able to three-step for the first time is both joyous and bitter for Shouyou. It shows that his partner and rival is improving at an incredible rate … yet, Shouyou’s been stuck at standstill. He’s having trouble even moving onto four-stepping.

It’s frustrating in a way that Shouyou doesn’t know how to deal with. The worst part is that Tobio doesn’t know how to deal with it either. The orange-haired hurdler can tell that his boyfriend is getting frustrated too—with his own inability to express himself through words. He had tried once, but what had come out of his mouth was, “Why aren’t you trying hard enough?”

Shouyou was so hurt he avoided Tobio for a whole two days. Which. Was pretty difficult, avoiding Tobio, that is. The two hadn’t realized how entwined their lives had become until Shouyou was seeing his blue-eyed rival everywhere he went. Practice was also … much harder. It was hard to keep up the same motivation when they were pretending the other did not exist.

On day two, Tobio left a note on Shouyou’s desk that read “I didn’t mean to imply that you weren’t working hard, and I’m sorry my words made it seem that way. You know I’m not good with words or feelings or any of that, but … I do know I shouldn’t have said that. You win this time? - Tobio”

If the note had been from anyone else, Shouyou would have called it a piss-poor attempt at an apology. However, from Tobio, he knew what the hurdler meant. “I’m sorry my words made it seem that way.” _I’m sorry for my words._ “I do know I shouldn’t have said that.” _I fucked up this time._ “You win this time?” _Are you okay? Are we okay? Can we start competing again? I miss that._

When Tobio shows up at the locker room, scuffing his shoe against the concrete, Shouyou greets him with a half-smile, “Hey, Bakayama, what took you so long? At this rate I’m going to be ten points ahead of ya in no time.”

Tobio smirks.

They were okay.

* * *

It’s the night before the South Miyagi Relay Meet, and Shouyou’s not going home until he gets. Four-stepping. Down. Right.

He’s just not going to.

Shouyou doesn’t even realize he’s crying in frustration until Tobio stops him from getting out of the starting block.

“Shou,” he begins uncharacteristically softly, “you should probably go home now.” He taps his watch twice, gesturing for the shorter hurdler to look at the time.

_Five forty-seven._

Shouyou winces. Practice usually ends at five at latest the nights before meets; Daichi and the coaches were adamant about no one overworking themselves. Usually this wasn’t a problem …, but this time, Shouyou had lost track of time pushing and trying to get his steps _just so_.

“How about just one more ti—”

“Shou.”

“But—”

“Take it from me, Shou,” Tobio begins in a faraway tone, one that makes the orange-haired hurdler think that his boyfriend is speaking from first-hand experience, “That’s not how it works. Sometimes … you’ll try and try, working as hard as you can, and it still won’t workout. Hard work … is only one component of talent. The other parts are luck and genetics. Moving down a step? It’ll happen when it’s meant to. And in the meantime, you shouldn’t destroy your body trying to achieve something that takes time. Go home. Go rest. It’s the best thing you can do for yourself the night before a meet.”

“Tobio …”

“I know,” he says, crystal blue eyes softening, “ _I know_.”

* * *

The day of the meet, the sun rises the same as it always does. Shouyou wakes up unusually early, body too filled with buzzing energy to _rest_ any longer. He watches the sun rise through the window next to his bed and wonders at the absolute calm that has taken over him. Is this how Tobio has felt about his races—this unshakeable certainty that he will perform nothing less than his best?

Is this a borrowed confidence he can make his own?

So, as the sunlight takes over the sky, Shouyou picks up his phone and texts his boyfriend.

* * *

It’s a rare meet on a Sunday, which means that the team arrives at the competition’s location with still sleep-crusted eyes, puffing out yawns in the chilly morning air. Shouyou and Tobio are holding hands as they enter the building, the taller boy’s presence wiping away the last vestiges of anxiety Shouyou felt at the thought of any competition.

“Tobio?”

“Hmm?”

“Let’s kick some ass.”

* * *

A relay meet is a nontraditional meet. One that turns every individual competition into a team one. In a relay meet, you aren’t truly competing against yourself the same way you would at a normal meet; rather, it is the purest form of competition, one where you race against the other athletes, and them alone. There is no trying to beat your personal best, just the single-minded need to better than everyone else. And that, perhaps, is the reason why relay meets were _made_ for people like Shouyou and Tobio, who need competition like they need air. 

It’s also what makes this meet the most exciting one yet for Shouyou. To not only compete, but compete with Tobio by his side? It’s like a dream he didn’t realize he had came true.

“This is the first call for hurdles. The first call for hurdles,” the announcer interrupts the hurdling duo’s warmups.

Shouyou turns to Tobio.

“Ready?”

“Ready.”

* * *

“Who else is running with us anyways?” Shouyou asks his blue-eyed partner once they start lining up at the finish line.

“Boke! Didn’t you look at the spreadsheet Ukai sent out?” Tobio responds exasperatedly yet fondly.

“Too much of a hassle when I knew you would tell me if I asked,” Shouyou quips.

The taller hurdler sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Kinoshita-san used to hurdle in middle school and is passable at it. He usually fills in for relays along with Tsukushi from the soccer team.”

“From the soccer team?”

“Yeah, they’re good when compared to other teams at this meet,” Tobio’s eyes sweep over their opponents, “But we’ll still have to do better than our best if we want to win.”

“But of course,” Shouyou grins, “How could we do anything less?”

* * *

The thing about track meets is that the fastest people always run in the last heat. So, when Shouyou was placed in the heat before Tobio, he was incredibly disappointed but unsurprised. After all, the coaches had to use a combination of his middle school time and practice times to get their estimate. It figures that they wouldn’t put someone ranked only with an unofficial time in the last heat, but it still stings.

“Boke,” Tobio breaks Shouyou out of his introspection. His boyfriend looks him right in the eyes, piercing azure delving into Shouyou’s soul. “We’re not running in the same heat. … But you’re the only one I’m going to be competing with, got it? Only you.”

A smile spreads across his face as he steps up to the starting block.

“I’ll leave you in the dust, Tobio.”

* * *

The moment Shouyou launches himself out of the starting block, he knows it’s going to be his best race yet. His whole body feels light, as if someone had reached out a plucked a weight he hadn’t known he was carrying from him. He’s not counting his steps, not worrying about trying to four-step, not thinking about anything but the finish line. He runs and runs, arms tight by his side, refusing to flail out.

Shouyou runs as if this is the last race he will be allowed to run. Shouyou runs as if he has Tobio by his side, inching his way into vision with the speed and grace that had made him fall in love with hurdles—and his blue-eyed rival—in the first place. Shouyou runs with no end in sight until he surprises himself at the last hurdle, blinking for the first time in what feels like ages.

There are no more hurdles in front of him.

And that’s his cue to push and push everything he’s got left, to lift his leg just that centimeter higher, pump his arms that millisecond faster, lean his chest forward as far as he can.

Shouyou places first in his heat by 0.5 seconds. He’s out of breath, having spent every last drop of energy in the race. He’s so unaware, he doesn’t realize Yamaguchi’s guided him off the track and into the inner field until he’s being handed a water bottle.

“Thanks Yamaguchi-san!” Shouyou flashes a smile and two thumbs ups.

“No problem. You did amazing, Hinata-san!” the freckled pole vaulter replies, the corner of his eyes crinkling with his smile.

“I won’t know if it was actually that good until Tobio finishes,” Shouyou responds, already turning to watch the final race. There was only one time he cared about: Tobio’s.

* * *

Tobio makes it to the end of his race in third place, placing behind Oikawa, his senpai from Seijoh, and an irritating-looking hurdler from Shiratorizawa called Semi. The moment the intense athlete gets the okay from the track officials, he’s making his way towards Shouyou with more energy than anyone who just ran a race should have.

“Show me.” Tobio reaches his hand out, demanding his brown-eyed boyfriend’s phone. Shouyou hands it over silently.

Tobio practically shakes as he tries to start the video as fast as possible. When he finishes, he looks up, a wide smirk spreading across his face.

“You did it! You four-stepped that last one!”

“I … what?”

“Boke! You four-stepped!” Tobio repeats with none of his usual growl, his natural surliness having been erased by his excitement for his boyfriend’s monumental achievement. “You did it!”

“Holy shit, I did it,” Shouyou repeats, disbelieving. “Tobio, I did it, and it was thanks to you!”

“B-boke, it was all you,” the blue-eyed boy blushes.

“No, it was you,” Shouyou insists, “I imagined you running by my side, pushing me to do better, go faster, run with better form. And then my mind went fwoom, and everything just felt so natural and amazing and smooth. I couldn’t even _think_ about anything but the finish line, and it was thanks to _you_. So, thank you, Tobio. Thank you.”

* * *

In the end, Tobio places third, Shouyou places fifth, and Karasuno takes home second place, only 0.3 seconds away from Shiratorizawa’s winning time. When it’s announced, Shouyou can’t help but slump a little in disappointment—despite having expected this outcome.

Tobio puts a hand on his shoulder.

“We’ll get them next time,” he reassures Shouyou, “… and next time, we’ll do it running side by side.”

Shouyou doesn’t know when he’ll face these opponents next, and he doesn’t know if he’s going to four-step again. He doesn’t even know how he’ll change before their next race. But what he does know is that he’ll do it all by Tobio’s side, the two pushing each other to new speeds.

“I promise. I’ll make it happen, Tobio. I’ll be there to push you, and you better be there to push me.”

“Shouyou,” his boyfriend smiles, “we’re going to conquer this world, three steps at a time.”

**Author's Note:**

>  **alternative (funny) ending i wrote which absolutely also happened:**  
>  “I promise. I’ll make it happen, Tobio. I’ll be there to push you, and you better be there to push me.”  
> “Shouyou,” his boyfriend smiles, “we’re going to conquer this world, three steps at a time.”  
> The taller boy pauses for a moment, before adding, “Or in your case, four steps at a time.”  
> Shouyou gasps. “Bakayama, you wanna go?”  
> “Bring it, Boke!”


End file.
